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In Their Hands Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 19649 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
A/N: Oracle – ‘Luna and George need some action’ – Hahahah. I wouldn’t know what you, I mean Luna, would do to him. ‘I should have seen that her loosened tongue was another manifestation of her loosened psyche’ – Yesss. And does that mean we both have really loose psyches? ‘You're just a little tipsy. Right hand red does not refer to wine.’ – LOL. Are you sure? That’s how I’ve always played. ‘Snape, who purposefully keeps up a wall between himself and his "partners."’ – this was a very useful insight, I won’t say more than that. ‘She's very open about it and is using it to fill in the missing spots in her life (which Shaun is too, but he feels guilty about it).’ – perfect summation. ‘"Yes, my slot is pretty free."—Snort. Me too.’ – Double snort! ‘And then pervy Lynch shows up to "rescue" her’ – this made me laugh. I guess he is pretty pervy. ‘And of course he was marking his territory. That's what guys like to do. Especially when they looooove you. :)’ – Ahhhhhh yes!

Robin – ‘Holy maccaroni, this is getting serious. Hermione having fun?’ – LOL, loved that. Who would have thought? More chappies coming . . . and the rest ;)

LeWyKi – Your project sounds really interesting. The closest I’ve come to anything like that is a computational linguistics analysis of discussion forums in an online course. Of course it has nothing to do with audition or pronunciation and is more about language use but I still think all this stuff around language and speech is fascinating. ‘Facebook and the other SelfSpyingServices’ – I haven’t heard it described that way. I like it. Very true. ‘I strictly rely on word of mouth and parodies - at least I know the bias there.’ – wise approach. I have switched off from all news while I’ve been writing and it’s been the most enlightened I’ve felt. ‘Sadly, often filtered by quantity rather than quality...’ – remember, 90% of anything is crap. ‘Their dynamic sometimes seems like the one step forward, two steps back, then a leap - may go in either direction.’ – true, it is a complicated dynamic which each is attempting to navigate within and between themselves. ‘Of course, we have no confirmation of that from anyone but Snape.’ – Nice observation J ‘Not that more trouble isn't on the horizon’ – I wonder how you always know . . . I hope they approved the final plan for your experiment. Enjoy the rest of your week.

Night_Fairy – lovely to hear from you. ‘Most can be just too shy to review’ – of course you are right. However, because this one was so different from the others I thought people might be hating it and wanted to know early before I put too much effort in. Turns out people were just being quiet and shy for a while :)

Severus1Snape – Glad you are loving Luna. I love her too.

Chapter 14 – Playing Their Hands

Hermione caught only rare glimpses of Snape over the following days. He didn’t join the rest of the group for meals, and in their staff meeting it was revealed that he had cancelled all of his scheduled therapy sessions. When Lynch closed his folder before leaving the meeting, and told them all to give Snape some space, Hermione wondered just how much interaction he and Snape might have had.

Meanwhile, she was still tying herself in knots trying to figure him out. There was nothing straight-forward about his presentation, whatsoever. Just when she thought she was on the brink of slotting all the pieces together, there was something that didn’t quite fit. His complexity shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He was the most intelligent person she had ever known, he had advanced skills in Legilimency, his understanding of human behaviour was exceptional, but he was also probably the most traumatised individual she had ever encountered.

What she knew of his past would have been enough to send most people spiralling into madness and yet he had remained astonishingly high functioning. Then there were the significant events that she didn’t know about; the missing pieces that might enable her to know him well enough to help him. But his recent behaviour suggested that sharing those moments might be a bridge too far. She was concerned that he had now shut himself off completely—erected the walls, disconnecting himself from his emotions and anyone who might have a chance of touching them.

She also felt a deep, simmering anger. She’d shared with him one of her darkest secrets. It had unburdened her on some level but she’d also hoped that the revelation would have opened him up to her. Perhaps it had. But then her kiss. That kiss. Had undone it all.

Standing at the dining room window, steaming cup of tea in hand, she watched the swaying birch outside, clinging steadfastly to its last leaf. If it held on, could it deny the changing of the seasons? Could it stave off the bitter onslaught of winter?

Then she heard it. Instantly recognisable as the handiwork of someone devastatingly proficient. She hadn’t heard him play since his duet with Dennis but knew that, if she ventured into the adjoining room, he would be there, his elegant hands caressing the keys, the rising arch of his back leaning into the seething rumble of bass notes in their match of wills against the delicate tintinnabulation of the upper keys. The song was deeply sonorous, rolling and passionate but then turned melodic and achingly wistful. If she’d been worried that he’d lost connection with his emotions, it was instantly dispelled by what felt like a raw and impassioned plea.

Turning her back to the window, she slid down to the ground, staring into the empty room. She could hear the pain in his playing but also the hope. And as she brushed the tears from her cheeks, she wondered if she was the one who could deliver him from it, from wherever he had gone to hide.

Unable to face him at that moment, she returned to her rooms to wash away the misery that seemed to want to take up permanent residence on her face over the past days. Gazing into the mirror she wondered what she was doing, where she was going. She felt she was standing at a precipice, ready to tumble into something dark and unknown. The decision now was whether to jump or wait to be pushed.

Then she noticed something that squeezed her heart like a fist. On the windowsill stood a flower in a pot. It was a sunflower, magically sustained, and beaming yellow against the rays that filtered through the window; And the pot was clay, moulded by his hands. As she approached she noticed the decoration along the rim—swirly ‘S’ shapes. What did they symbolise? Snakes? Slytherin? Severus Snape? Or the name that now seemed to inexplicably leap to mind whenever she thought about him, Sexy Mother . . . shit, she needed to find him.

***

As she threw open the activities room door, he instantly halted and glanced around at her, a swathe of dark hair falling across his face, hands resting upon the keys.

“Keep playing,” she instructed, striding up to each window in turn and flicking her wand at it, causing the shades to drop until the room was almost completely dark. Then she locked and warded the doors. She didn’t want anyone seeing this. Even Luna.

As she flicked on lamps about the walls, his haunted gaze slid back to the keyboard and he resumed playing.

Approaching him slowly, she watched the shape of his hands as they glided, stroked and arched against the keys. It was mesmerising and exhilarating to behold someone so adept. Clearly the past eight years hadn’t been completely wasted. Had this become his therapy?

Rich, brawny chords reverberated through her chest while luxuriant melodies trickled over the top as she placed a hand on each broad shoulder, taut but oscillating rhythmically with the music. When she slid one hand into his neck and raked it up under his hair, she felt him instinctively push back into her. Grazing her fingernails against his scalp, she grasped a handful of hair before tugging his head gently to the side. His playing slowed, becoming hesitant as she touched the skin just behind his ear with the tip of her tongue.

Even over the tumbling cadence of notes she heard him groan, feeling the vibration of his larynx through her trailing tongue as it slid inexorably slowly down the side of his neck. When she reached his collar, her fingers crawled around to release the buttons at his throat while her lips alighted on the raised edge of the knotted skin that had almost become his portal to death. His hand was on her face, curling around her cheek into her hair, but she gently disentangled his fingers before guiding his palm back to the keys.

With a deep, shuddering sigh, he flexed his fingers against the ivory, continuing to form slow, soft chords as her feather-light kisses and warm breath soothed the tightness that had settled in his blighted tissues since the attack. As she worked her way around his neck, his head tipped back to allow her access and he continued playing with his eyes closed.

Her fingers flicked open the buttons of his coat and shirt, trailing down his chest as her tongue licked over his larynx, drawing another tight groan that she felt buzzing into her open mouth. Releasing the final buttons below his navel, she dragged her hands up from his abdomen to his bare chest, placing them on the pectoral muscles that rippled and shifted under his pale skin as he played. Like the strings of the piano that vibrated when struck by each key, she felt the sinews and fibres of him similarly humming with each note played.

Then her fingers delved down, grazing his nipples in slow, sinuous circles before she grasped both tight nubs between her damp fingertips, simultaneously leaning forward and nipping at the soft flesh of his earlobe.

He hissed and strained forward, fumbling across the keys before resuming his flawless playing. Chewing at the smile on her lips, she straightened, keeping one hand on his shoulder as she stepped around to his side. Crouching, she crawled under his elbow, pushing his legs apart so she could squeeze between his arms, her back buzzing against the resonating keyboard. He continued to play blind, watching her from the shuttered darkness of his deep-set orbs as she held his shirt aside and leaned forward to flick the tip of her tongue across one caramel nipple. Feeling his cock jerk against her chest, she stroked it gently as though petting a restless animal.

With languorous, rhythmic strokes she moved against him, her tongue and lips working both straining buds until his long lashes fell closed again. Then both hands crawled to his trousers and pulled them open, releasing his silken cock, a fixture that was becoming as familiar to her as the nose on his face.

When she grasped him, his hands stuttered again across the keys before continuing more slowly. Twisting her fist slightly as she slid up his shaft, she drew a shimmering pearl of pre-cum to his head, squeezing just below the corona to keep it there before dipping down to lap it from his slit. A loud blast of air escaped his nostrils and she glanced up to see his brow furrowed as he attempted to concentrate on his playing while she fondled his velvety warmth.

Returning her mouth to the base, she nipped at his pulsing flesh, flicking her tongue out as she explored below her pumping fist which continued to slip up and down over his head. The trickle of notes had become agonisingly slow and she moved at the same tentative pace, licking and sucking at his soft flesh before sliding her fist back down and finally lowering her mouth over his head. Her tongue swirled around and over the taut ridges before she pulled back, releasing a burst of breath that contrasted so sharply with the heat of her mouth that it caused his thighs to jump around her and the piano keys to plink in shocked staccato.

Deciding that he’d had enough teasing, Hermione slid her mouth back onto him, weaving like a cobra as she engulfed what she could, her hand stroking away at the parts she couldn’t. A breathy grunt escaped him and his lower hand fluttered over the base notes as his other raked into her hair, massaging it in time with her slow bobbing movements up and down his cock.

Taking her time, she tickled along the seam with her tongue while sucking with her lips, releasing occasional wet slurps as she broke the seal, something that would have previously had her reeling in embarrassment but had now become insignificant in comparison to what had come before.

Squeezing his broad base more urgently with each upstroke, she felt his hips rocking against her and took the opportunity to slide her other hand into the dark confines of his trousers to cup his balls, already riding high in his clenching scrotum. Rolling the soft nuggets between her fingers, she heard his breaths turn into guttural grunts and knew he was close.

The hand on the keyboard played the same deep resonating notes emphatically, over and over while the hand in her hair clenched with each short upward thrust from the piano stool. Speeding up the rhythmic jerks of her fist, she dragged her lips over him, rocking from side to side as her tongue milked him with long squeezing strokes.

What started as a hiss between his clenched teeth, ended as a shout as the keys beneath his clenching fingers jangled erratically and he came with his head pitched forward, pulling her into him by the tangled curls.

Hermione’s swollen lips stayed wrapped around his member as it jerked and pulsed erratic jets of warm come into her throat. And it wasn’t until she could swipe the last drop away with her tongue that she released him with a sigh and leaned back, her neck aching from the tension. Looking up at him, she gulped down her salty mouthful and wiped her saliva-slicked lips on the back of her hand.

As his bare chest rose and fell in the shadow of his open shirt, his strong arms lifted her from between his legs. Her knees felt old and creaky. But before she could react, she found herself pulled into his lap, straddling his thighs as he wandlessly opened and discarded her shirt with a flourish. With equal flair, her bra followed and suddenly she was bare-chested, her full nipples hovering only millimetres from his parted lips.

Shivering with anticipation, she groaned as the hot cavern of his mouth suddenly closed over one throbbing pink kernel. Licking and sucking with the sort of abandon she had come to know, his breath burst from his nostrils only when the seal of her skin allowed it. She wrapped her arms around his dark locks, holding him tightly to her while grinding into his stomach until her breathy moans filled the air.

Just as suddenly as he had pulled her to him, he now pushed her away, casting a seam-splitting spell on her jeans and knickers before lifting her bare backside onto the keyboard with a discordant crash of notes. Leaning over her, dark eyes searing into hers, he carefully removed each of her boots, tossing them over his shoulders. Then, without breaking eye contact, he pushed the piano stool back with his foot before sinking slowly down onto it, now perfectly positioned to bury his face in her . . .

“Gods!” she cried, clanging along the keys with her flailing hands, attempting to find purchase.

Feet braced against his shoulders, her head banged loudly against the piano case, making it hum in protest as he delved his tongue into her folds, ending with the jolting graze of his teeth against her clitoris.

“Uuhhh,” her breath choked out of her. She managed to grasp the carved wood on the side of the keyboard with her slippery fingers while burying the other in the mane of dark hair that now undulated with his lapping tongue. She felt so open to him, a fact verified by the way he slipped, one, two and then three fingers easily inside her lubricious pussy.

As she writhed around under him, the piano groaned and shuddered beneath her. Occasionally he would slam his free hand down on the keys, making the whole structure vibrate against her bare skin as his tongue simultaneously flicked around inside her lips.

Suddenly he sucked her swollen clitoris into his mouth and plunged his fingers so deeply into her that she held her breath, waiting for the sensation to subside. But it didn’t. It just kept building with each twist and thrust of his digits and the serpentine gyration of his head, sucking at her throbbing nub.

“Oh shiiiiiit!” She squeezed her eyes closed, thumping the piano again with her head. She couldn’t squirt on the piano, imagine what would happen if . . . too late . . .

“Unnnnhhhhh,” she wailed to the ceiling, as her backside bucked and crashed against the keys, her juices gushing over his chin and pumping fingers and dribbling down between the lengths of ivory. Her feet continued to shudder and convulse against his shoulders, her pussy sucking at him for wave upon wave of pelvis-twisting orgasm until she was numb and completely drained.

Then he pulled his fingers from her channel and stood over her, his face slick and shiny with her release. Instantly, she grabbed him around the neck and pulled him to her, locking her mouth on his. And this time he responded by sliding his tongue into hers, her juice and his residual come mixing in the intimate chamber that they now shared. Rolling and sucking, they devoured one another for minute after minute until they were both heaving and breathless.

Sliding his forehead down, he rested it against hers.

“Thank you.” His husky voice slid into her chest, filling her like the breath of life.

Her mind was too far gone to respond as she wanted.

Instead she replied with the few words she could string together.

“I enjoyed the . . . performance . . . sir.”
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In Their Hands *Complete*

In Their Hands Complete